The Four Stories
by shady66730
Summary: The sequel to The Four Seasons. Follows the stories of Kayta (Kayta's great-times-many granddaughter), Nina (Kayta's daughter), Iris (Cashmere's great-times-many-granddaughter), and Scarlet (President Snow's great-granddaughter). Rated T for brief language, violence/action, and light romance. Favorite, follow, review, and enjoy! Thanks! Hope you enjoy!


_So here it is. You've all been waiting. Here's the sequel to The Four Seasons. I hope you enjoy. I'm very excited, especially because The Four Seasons was so popular. Hopefully this will be even more so. I think it will because it'll have four main characters and probably, like, fifty chapters. I hope this story goes on for a long time. :D For Nina, it's during the 60th HG or so, for Scarlet during what would have been the 100th, and for Kayta and Iris it'd be present day, as if the Games were a thing of the song clip below has been altered to not cuss. I felt it fit the theme of the story and the picture, so this excerpt is the story's theme. This is the prolouge for every one of the four main characters. A sort of... introduction. Thanks! Review, follow, favorite, and enjoy! _

Jesus and everyone else is just tryna pick up the pieces.

Man, how you touch so many freaking lives and just leave us?

They say grievance has a way of affecting everyone different.

If it's true, how the heck am I supposed to get over you?

Difficult as it sounds...

-Eminem, Difficult

**oOoOo**

**Nina**

**(Titanium)**

I blinked slowly, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I'd just stepped into my room and there wasn't much lighting.

My hands streched out and skimmed the walls, searching for the light switch. It was pure black and I was on pins and needles. I located the switch and turned it on. When the light came on, I squinted against the light.

The room was simple. Like everyone else's. A bed in the center, a nightstand beside it, a lamp, a shelf, and a dresser.

This was life. I'd lived like this since my mother had died eight years ago. I barely remembered her.

I knew my mother was a wonderful woman named Kayta Evry. She and my father had given me the name Nina. When I was three, my father disappeared. He was never seen again.

My mother, Kayta, had won the 25th Hunger Games, or the First Quarter Quell, at twelve-years-old, but she'd failed her mission. She'd been instructed to blow up the arena. She had failed. So they'd killed her when she was twenty-seven and I was just seven.

My family, the one I knew now, had rescued me. My "father", Kingston, told me my mother really loved me. He told me stories of her bravery and her Games and even showed me them once. She seemed like such a great person.

But she was dead. My life wasn't with her. My life was with Kingston and the others in District 13.

This was my life. My story. I was just trying to put it all together. Because, for now, my life was a puzzle of broken pieces. I planned to put it together.

I was born Nina Cresta, but those days were behind me. Now, my name was Titanium Chase. But right now, I couldn't say I lived up to my name. I was too broken.

I sat down on my bed and looked around, my hands in my lap. I reached up and combed through my dingy light brown hair and then blinked my blue eyes, understanding. Broken.

That was about to change.

**oOoOo**

**Kayta**

My fingers fluttered across the pages gently. The diary was old, faded, but so very beautiful. And full of knowledge. Everything I'd wanted to know.

The dust coated each page and my fingers were covered in the stuff by the time I had brushed it all off. I smiled softly as I read the second page.

_I've just won the Games two days ago. Every moment still lives in my mind as if it's still right here, right now. I don't know how to deal with the nightmares. Diamond's pained cries, Flutter's pleading eyes... Psh. I should write poetry. _

_ Oh? Who are Diamond and Flutter? Read below._

I scanned the words below. It showed all the tributes of Kayta's Games, followed by poetic and detailed discription. Kayta really loved Diamond, that was for sure. She spoke of her in the later pages as if she was a sister.

My eyes fell to a little bit of writing at the very bottom. A footnote, perhaps?

It said, **I wrote this, in pen, when I was drunk. None of it is true.**

I almost laughed. My namesake was an insane drunk? I couldn't help but snicker.

I started reading, curling up on an old recliner and squinting to read in the dim light. It was about Kayta's love life. And how Nina was born.

Damn.

Nina. She had a cool story, too. And as I skimmed through the pages, I saw at the end it had a little section by her. I could tell because, at the beginning, it said, _This is Nina, or Titanium, as they call me often. _

Titanium. What a name. I laughed a little and read on. _There's something you need to know. The per_

The words stopped there. I looked at the next place, but there was nothing.

I frowned. Something had ripped her away, and she'd never finished.

I'd have to put the broken pieces together. The ones she'd left.

I knew this as soon as I saw Kayta and a five-year-old Nina smiling at the camera. They looked just like me.

The picture was faded and dingy. But the determined look in both's eyes was there, so similar to my own.

So now my mission began.

**oOoOo**

**Scarlet**

My heart swelled as a picture of my great-great-grandfather and grandmother fluttered down. At the time, my great-great-grandfather was president. His beard was pure white and he looked genuinely happy and little rose in his lapel. My grandmother, Rose, was a smiling little red-head, like me. I think she was nine in the picture.

Both were dead because of that stupid Katniss Everdeen. The Games no longer exsisted and the 76th Games, the one for the Capital, had been held before I was born, years after the Rebellion. Rose's younger sister was reaped at seventeen. She'd gotten pretty far, but when she'd died in third place, Grandmother had taken it hard. She'd killed herself at only twenty-four.

My mother was a toddler at the time. But she still remembered her mother perfectly.

She'd told me stories. "She was a wonderful woman," she'd boasted. "Strong, smart, wise. Like her grandfather." She'd grabbed my hands and looked in my eyes. "Like you."

Now I was an orphan. My father had left when I was a baby. My mother had died due to plague; the former Capitol citizens were forced to live in disgusting enviorments and cleanliness didn't really exsist.

I was an angry child. All of my homes had kicked me out. Now I lived alone at just sixteen, but I had managed myself for years.

I'd learned how to use weapons at ten. I planned to avenge my family. That would begin with ripping out Katniss Everdeen's throat. She'd shattered my world to pieces. It would never be the same.

About time I return the favor, yes?

Next, Johanna Mason. Then Peeta Mellark. Slowly, one by one, I would hunt down all the fools who had dared to ruin my life. They were going to pay.

Shattered. Everything, broken to pieces. Laying sprawled out everywhere in tiny little pieces. It was impossible to put it back together.

So if I couldn't fix it, I would make others lives hell like mine. They would suffer the pain I suffered. They would bleed out like my family did.

And soon, too.

**oOoOo**

**Iris**

I smiled softly as I watched my beautiful ancester, Cashmere, in her interview. She was so perfect. She had my curly, shining, blonde locks, but she had sparkly green eyes while I had soft, chocolate ones.

"So, Cashmere, are you confident you'll win this years Games?" asked the interviewer, Caesar.

"Definatly," Cashmere replied with a pearly, cocky grin. "I'm near positive I'll win!"

So confident. I wish I was like that. I turned and looked at the picture of me on the shelf. I looked shy and timid when I was ten.

Now? I was a proud, spoiled, gorgeous teenager. I was a cheerleader at school, I was popular, and I was the boy's dream. Everyone loved me. Even teachers.

My family had always been wealthy, well-off people. And we'd always known our place; royalty, in a sense. Everyone knew it. When we walked down the halls, they would pause and stare. We were that cool.

Like that song, Sexy and I Know It. _When I walk on the spot, yeah, this is what I see (okay), everybody stopped and their staring at me. _Just, not the "passion in my pants" part.

I laughed at this and then looked back up at the TV. It was the Bloodbath, now. I watched in delight, though I shouldn't, as Cashmere kicked _ass._

I finished her first Games, though I'd seen them four hundred times. Then I dug through my tapes and one that was way in the back and barely visible caught my eye.

I took it out and put it in slowly before coming to sit again. To my surprise, it was a tape from Cashmere.

"Hey," she said, her voice impatient. "It's Cash, as you probably can tell" -as she said it, she flipped her hair and smiled and so did I, instinctivly- "and I just wanted to tell you something, like, mega-super-important. Tomorrow, the 3rd Quarter Quell begins. I'm going to lose, I know. I feel it. It's destiny. But guess what? There's something you gotta know, first. So my legacy can live on. A bit of a puzzle.

"See, we Querry's- that's my last name, and possibly yours, too- aren't too bright. I'll admit it. We have beauty and fearlessness on our side, but we're airheads. The person who finds this and figures out my riddle will be perfect for this mission.

"First, you must find my old home. I lived in District 1 in the Seventh Victor's Village Home. Keep that in mind. The riddle is under my bed. But to find i-"

The video cuts off in a haze of fizzles.

"No!" I shouted, but it was no use. I took the tape out and the film was unwound.

I cursed loudly. Now I would have to put this puzzle together. All by myself.

Plus I was an airhead. Damnit.


End file.
